Chapter 3

Two twenty-five.   The Bell rang,  “Go home!  Go and study my young philosophers!”  our professor exclaimed.  The repetitive ringing was signalling to me and everyone else in Seoul’s Boys’ Honor School that we could finally tread home.  

Park and I were walking home together, like always, but there was something different this time.  I didn’t know what it was, but you could feel that something wasn’t right.  It wasn’t the heat, not the humidity, but something was wrong.

I said farewell to Park when we reached his house.  CRACK! CRACK!  Gunfire was roaming through the streets.  

“Zyang, get inside!”  Park yelled.  I guess he heard the rifles as well.  

 Park’s mother told us, “hide in the attic until the fighting stops, then I’ll get you!”  The distress had gone to our brains, we froze, “just go! You have no time to waste!”  she yelled at us.  

“MOM!” Park cried.  But it was too late, she had already shut the door on us.

“Do you think she’s alright?”  he asked me.

“Why wouldn’t she be?” I answered.

“But she’s all alone down there… what if the soldiers get her!?!” He was panicking; I had to say something.

“They won’t, she’s the toughest mom I know,”  I assured him.

Hours later, there was a knock on the door of the attic.  Park urgently opened the door, embracing his mother.   We spent a few minutes on the futon, acting like a family.  It felt good to have more than just one person to sit down with.

“As soon as the soldiers kicked at the door, I knew I couldn’t leave,”  Mrs. Han explained.

“Then what did you do, Mom?  Did you punch those suckers to death?”  Park asked.

“I hid; it was a miracle they didn’t care to check under the futon,”  she responded.

Park held onto his mother for what seemed like hours.  Not a sound, but you could feel their warmth heating the room.  

Or it wasn’t them since fires raged the streets, smoke and dust filled the air.  Two locals rushed to me and demanded I come with them. “와, 어서, 우릴 죽이기 전에 나가야 해!” wa, eoseo, ulil jug-igi jeon-e nagaya hae!   The older one of the two took me by the wrist, and the younger one brought Park and his mother out of the house.

I ripped his hand off of mine and ran, ran down the streets of Seoul; I needed to know.  I bolted past soldiers;  I don’t even think they were from our army.  I passed two Chinese and North Korean tanks and glimpsed a lane of crumbling houses before I slid into a pile of gravel.  My home, my neighbors, and I pray not my mom.  If they got here in Seoul, they had to go through the 38th parallel.

The tanks and the men following them started making their way down south.  I snuck behind a pile of recently worn rubble.  After a few good minutes of waiting they turned the corner, and it was time for me to make my move.  

I darted past ripped walls, fallen roofs.  There it was, the warm, loving place I called home.  But cold, dirty, and dead.  No sight of my mom, and I was too weak to dig.  I pulled up what I could, but I just couldn’t find her.  “What if they took her like they took some of the others?” I asked myself.  There had to be a chance, and I was going to take it. 

A cold, lonely air filled the remains of Seoul; one day you have everything, the next, nothing.  I roamed the streets for anything, anything to smile about.  There wasn’t even sunlight, only dust, tears, and the stench of blood.  I used to have a great life.  I had everything; a family, a home, a best friend.  But all I can do now is remember.

Chapter 4

“Please, let me join, I need to!” I pleaded.

“You are young and certainly not qualified, I’m sorry,”  the soldier responded.

I lounged onto a fallen log by the camp.  It was like me, tired and hopeless.  “I’m sorry Mom, I wish I could.”   I couldn’t do anything if I couldn’t get into the army, but I needed to try.  I got back up and marched to the same soldier standing by the camp.

“Where does training take place?”  I asked him.

“You again?  Like I said, Kid, you’re not ready to fight,”  he explained to me.

“Then make me,” I continued.

“Make you?”  he questioned.

“Make me a soldier. I’ll be as fast as your fastest men, as smart as your smartest,”  I returned.

“You won’t,”  he retorted.

“Two weeks!”  I demanded.

“What?”  he questioned.

“Give me two weeks to prove myself,” I persisted, “To prove myself a soldi-”

“I doubt you will, but if you’re just going to stand here all day, you might as well be doing something,”  he answered.

He led me into the camp full of men.  There was barely anyone there, barely any volunteers.  “Where is everyone?”  I asked.  

“They’ve already been deployed to anywhere that isn’t occupied by the North.  At least that’s what general Chung Il-kwon told us,”  a large man answered.

Some other guy signalled all of us to an open field.  He had all those patches on his vest, so I assumed he’s general or something; all I know is that he thinks he’s better than me.

“We need every man there in South Korea to help.  We’re going to win this war because we have the strongest men!”  the man barked.

 I noticed him staring at me.

“IF YOU ARE UNDER SIXTEEN YEARS OF AGE GO HOME.  UNLIKE ME, YOUR FAMILY WANTS YOU!”  he continued.

He was still staring me down, but I was going to stand my ground like a real soldier until he gave us some real orders.

“IF YOU KNOW HOW TO FIRE A FIREARM, STEP FORWARD!”

Every one but me and another small, determined man stepped forward.

“Then go home,”  the officer fiercely whispered in the other man’s ear.

“SIR, YES SIR!”  The man responded.

“WE ONLY WANT THE MEN READY TO DIE FOR OUR CAUSE!”  the officer continued.

“STEP FORWARD IF YOU WILL DIE IN THE FIELDS!”

They all froze.  “I’m gonna live.”  I could hear them murmuring to each other.  I took a short step forward.  The officer looked at me; I looked him in his two fiery eyes,  “but it will be for our cause.”  

“CONTINUE YOUR TRAINING!”  he announced, so we dispersed.

“Hey, you, the small one.” It was the officer.  “You won’t make one day at this camp.  So go home and stay warm in your cozy bed.”  

I started to walk away when someone put their hands on me.  It was the soldier from the entrance of the camp.  “You won’t back down, will ya?  What’s the goal?  Justice?”

“I had left my mom, and now she’s gone,”  I explained.

“You have a strong heart kid,”  he told me.  “Good luck, and don’t get yourself killed.”  Then, he left.

-Zachary Dumlao